


too late for holy water now

by redledgers



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Biblical Scripture References (Abrahamic Religions), Biblical Themes (Abrahamic Religions), Family Dynamics, Family Issues, POV Second Person, Pre-Canon, just a farm boi and his mom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:07:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25984108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redledgers/pseuds/redledgers
Summary: This is the first time you lose him, and it will not be the last.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 33





	too late for holy water now

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MoanDiary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoanDiary/gifts).



He’s a stocky young thing, squalling and ferocious, and you think you should love him. 

Love, you find out later, comes in many forms. This one is born in sleepless nights and the absence of knowledge, but you try your best to give him what he needs. Provision is a form of love, as ordained by God, by Adam, and now by your own breast.

He crawls at first but soon he is running, and you cannot keep up with him, not with his brother on your hip and his father asking more of you than you have left to offer. He comes back later with dirt smudged on his cheeks and a limp snake clutched in one hand. This is the first time you lose him, and it will not be the last. 

In the evenings, you clean his cracked hands, rough from harrowing the field in preparation for the next morning. This is the only service he accepts from you, and it aches to see him growing bold and distant while his brother grows willowy and free. You’ve forgotten when you last saw his toothy smile and something hollow digs its claws in your chest.

When he lays the broken body of your sweet son at your feet, you realize you didn’t try hard enough. That the love you knew once in the Garden did not follow you when you left footprints in the dust beyond the gates. He does not say he is sorry. You do not ask him to.

Heaven is empty and all the devils roam the earth, and as you are joined by nameless droves, you wonder if you might see his face again.

You stop asking about him when Adam speaks sharply.

You stop looking for him when the floodgates are opened. 

It isn’t until a woman steps through the gates that you remember. 

He runs through the wheat field, blue eyes scrunched as he laughs, a joyous sound that rings through the air and spreads warmth through your heart. His brother chases him, and you follow close behind, because he is young enough that he might stumble. They both spill onto the dirt and you fall to your knees beside them, gather them up against you, and think naively that everything would be okay. You miss the way his eyes turn cold, but you never forget the way they look when you see him for the last time.

You wonder, because how could you not, if this too is your fault.


End file.
